User blog comment:Lathagarr Stormgale of Tronn/By Sword and Quill - RPG/@comment-3094815-20170526150430

After a bit of doing, the group was on its way. As the Abbey's walls disappeared from view behind the treetops, the group had high spirits as they set out toward a new beginning.

They travelled onward as days crept past, making their way ever southward. The first few days passed uneventfully, with stops for rest, sleep and meals. They kept at a leisurely pace, not wanting to tire anyone out. On the fourth day of their journey, the formerly impeccable weather began to change as a storm blew in from the west. It wasn't long after they had set up camp that rain began pelting down upon the camp. They were well equipped, however, and the raindrops danced upon sturdy tent material. Clouds of steam blew from a bubbling pot of stew, around which several beasts gathered, conversing or filling up their bowls.

Dennjon filled up his bowl and sat down next to Abigail, the young mousemaid. "Fine weather, ain't it? Makes a body appreciate a good, warm stew all the more, don't it?"